


Wings.

by werewolve



Series: Ineffable Husbands Ficlets [8]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, theres a bit of blood ment so fair warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 17:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolve/pseuds/werewolve
Summary: inspired by the thing from lucifer





	Wings.

By the time Aziraphale found him the wounds had almost healed over. Dried blood coating the skin of Crowley’s back.

His head was in his hands and his sunglasses were shattered a few feet in front of him, as was the mirror in the room. The Angel had never seen his companion look so vulnerable, wings sprawled across the ground, feathers now white again without the demonic power that kept them black.

“You know it makes it worse.”

Aziraphale started, shocked that Crowley had noticed him come in.

“That they’re white again. Cut away the Angelic part and it gets more Angelic. Just another bloody reminder that I’d give anything to be an Angel again.”

“Crowley...”

The Demon lifted his head, his serpentine eyes were wet with tears and red with long forgotten sobs. “I didn’t mean to fall. Why am I being punished for it.”

“Heaven has it’s ways.” Aziraphale spoke softly, inching closer to his companion. “Not all of them are good.”

“Keep your wings, Crowley, keep them, but have these damned eyes to make sure you know you chose the wrong side.”

“Is there a right side?”

Crowley didn’t respond. Not verbally at least, instead Aziraphale saw him bite his lip in the shattered remains of the mirror. His teeth, as the Angel had never noticed before, were almost fang like. Another demonic punishment he assumed.

And then Crowley held out a hand at his side, it was shaking, coated with a thin layer of dark red, but still the message was clear.

A silent ‘come here, please’ amidst his anguish.

And Aziraphale would be damned, certainly no pun intended, if he didn’t oblige.

He picked up his pace, dropping to his knees in front of Crowley and ignoring his hand entirely, instead opting to cup the Demon’s face in his own hands.

Every ounce of power he had in him was pushed through his fingertips as he did, anything to ease Crowley’s pain, a true miracle to heal the rest of his body. “Crowley, damn Hell, Heaven, both of them. You are your own person. You’re bloody unique.”

“Yeah but that’s just it isn’t it? Why do I have to be? Why did any of us have to be.”

“That’s just the way it went.”

Crowley shook his head in Aziraphale’s hands, but didn’t try to pull away, instead covering the Angel’s fingers with his own as he creased his brows, “It hurts.”

“I know.”

“I just wanted them gone.” His voice cracked.

“I know, Crowley, it’s okay.”

At that the Demon grasped Aziraphale’s shirt, dropping his head so that his forehead lay against the Angel’s chest, Aziraphale curled a hand into Crowley’s hair, circling his fingers to comfort him, and placed the other on his shoulder.

The Angel’s eyes focused on the wings that lay discarded on the ground, and then they trailed upwards.

_Damn me to hell, I dare you to put him through something more just so that I have reason to return to you with more to say. And even more to do._


End file.
